It Pours
by DullHaven
Summary: A string of cold cases and the beginnings of an illness take a toll on Olivia.
1. Chapter 1

After three days, the individual claps of thunder had blended into a low background rumble. The racket had become almost as familiar as the classic sounds of the steadily busy city, no longer bothering any of the residents much more than any other noise. Car horn. Barking dog. Thunder. New York was adaptable. Which was why Olivia hardly noticed that her apartment had lost power, again. It was already an aged building, but the owners were even older and never saw the need for a back-up generator, meaning that when the main electricity was down, the occupants were left to fend for themselves.

The detective kept a careful eye on the white, pillar candles that she'd placed on every available surface, knowing how quickly they could spark a bigger fire. She didn't get many nights off, and she almost wished that this wasn't one of them. There were many better ways to spend her rare free time than huddled in her apartment avoiding the rain. A book lay in her lap, its pages being idly creased and turned, but not read. Olivia didn't keep many in her home, choosing instead to reread the ones she had until they no longer gripped her interest.

It seemed that even the criminals were taking refuge from the rain, as the SVU squad hadn't had a new case for almost a week. While they were glad of it, they were also quickly tiring of going over old cases, after the leads had gone cold and witnesses disappeared. Each case that they reopened stabbed savagely at an old wound, leaving the detectives feeling dejected. The regret of not having solved the case the first time around was wearing at them, until their grasp on their emotions was thin and liable to snap.

The detectives were all beginning to show signs of the strain. Stabler was spending more time on the roof than at his desk. He might have been reprimanded if Cragen had left his office in the past few days. Munch and Fin had thought that they were doing well, until Olivia had pointedly asked why she hadn't been invited to the wedding before telling them that they were bickering like a long married couple. They'd laughed for the first time in days. But no one was suffering as much as Detective Olivia Benson.

Her empathetic tendencies were already making things tough on her, add in a few cold cases and what must be the beginnings of a flu bug, and you had a recipe for disaster. For reasons beyond her, Olivia's body seemed to staging a full fledged rebellion, leaving her in an uncomfortable haze. She'd considered going to the hospital, but the idea didn't get very far. The feeling that she was having was difficult to describe, and she could imagine the irritated expression on a doctor's face when she told him that her only symptom was that she didn't feel _good_. Besides, it wasn't really anything severe.

_When it rains, it pours, _she told herself, smirking out the window at her unintended pun. The cityscape was barely visible through rain, fog, and dusky shadows. Heaving a sigh at the view, Olivia lifted herself out of her chair and laid the book down in her place. The thunder was softer now, allowing the sounds from her neighbors to permeate the thin walls. The elderly couple next door was arguing over what to have for dinner _again_. Distantly, she could hear Chloe, the little girl that occasionally spent the night in Olivia's guest room while her mother worked her second job and her brother worked his first, begging her older brother to let her attend some slumber party that surely everyone else in her _whole school_ was going to attend.

Smiling faintly at the innocent exaggeration, Olivia had a sudden craving for some hot tea and turned to go to the kitchen. She was stopped dead in her tracks as a sharp pain tore through her abdomen, folding her at the middle without her consent. Her breath fled from her body as she clutched at her stomach and bit her bottom lip. Eventually, the pain began to ebb away, far from being completely gone, but reduced to a dull ache. Her body cautiously unfolded itself, then relaxed when it didn't feel any immediate ramifications.

_What the hell?_

_Definitely the flu, _she decided, resolving to stop at the drug store later. The kettle had just started warming over the flame from her gas stove top, when a rough knocking sounded at her door. A glance through the peep hole revealed a dripping and likely cranky Elliot Stabler. She repressed a chuckle and swung the door open, one hand over her face, hopefully covering her slight smile.

Blue eyes stared back at her, seeming significantly less amused than she was.

"Yeah, laugh it up," he complained as she stepped aside to let him enter, confirming her suspicions that he _was_ indeed _cranky, _"You'll be just as soaked as I am in an hour."

"We have a case?"

Nodding, he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs. "You aren't answering your phone," he accused, spinning to face her.

"The battery's dead, and I can't charge it. The electricity's out." Her hand waved towards the candles that were still burning around the apartment, before coming to rest at her side. Her stomach was hurting again, and she attempted to rub it without being noticed.

Elliot shrugged. "Thought you were holding a séance. Go get dressed."

He dodged the swat that she directed towards his shoulder as she went past.

"Take the water off the stove," she called over her shoulder, before slamming the bedroom door. After she'd undressed and shimmied into her work pants, she paused to examine her right side. The skin was clear, without any visible injury, but her hand skated over the olive skin just to make sure. Perplexed, she pulled her shirt on and grabbed her hairbrush, intending to run it through her hair on the way to the crime scene.

Her eyes rolled of their own volition when she left the room to spot Elliot snooping through her cabinets. It wasn't unexpected, and she'd learned to live with his prying nature. It was his way of showing concern.

She didn't have time to dwell on it because as soon as he saw her, Stabler shoved a pushed a mug of tea in her grasp and grabbed onto her elbow, guiding her out of the apartment, pausing only blow out the candles. Her tea was splashed against the side of the mug as she attempted to shrug into the light jacket that Elliot was shoving in her direction. Not that her coat would be all that useful against this full blown storm.

The two detectives used Stabler's phone to light the stairway as they attempted to scramble down the steps without slipping in the water that had been tracked in over the last few days. Olivia's shoe slipped on the ceramic and she threw her hand off her stomach and onto the railing. A slight hiss escaped her lips as the soothing pressure disappeared, and Stabler's neck snapped towards her.

"You alright?" he asked, holding the phone so it illuminated her face.

"Yeah," she answered, her voice trying to sound casual, but coming across as breathless instead, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just slipped."

She felt his gaze on her face and his hand on her back as she continued down the stairs, even so he seemed to let it go. By the time Olivia slid into the passenger seat, he'd started to discuss the case and her incident was forgotten. At least, it was for the time being. But if Olivia knew her partner at all, she knew it wouldn't be the last she heard of it that night.

And by the way the rain hammered the windshield, and her partner kept one eye on the road and one on her, she cold tell it was going to be a long one.


	2. Chapter 2

Elliot didn't have much of a chance of keeping eye on her. Not in this weather. He could barely keep an eye on the road through the thick fog and wall of rainfall that was pummeling the windshield. As a result, he spent the majority of the trip cursing at the other nocturnal drivers, who were apparently doing a much worse job navigating the weather than Elliot was. If she were going to be honest, Olivia might tell him that he was the one that was speeding and making stops that were too brief, but she had a feeling that honesty would not be appreciated in the situation. Best policy or not.

Normally, their crime scene would have only been a short drive away and the two detectives may have just walked to avoid any sort of parking hassle. The rain eliminated both options, causing a long drive and a pounding headache, neither of which Olivia needed that day. Her side was still causing problems, but Elliot had given her a look that clearly stated that he wasn't going to pull out if she didn't put her seat belt on, leaving her to suffer through the light pressure that the thin strap placed on her side. That was another thing that she couldn't understand. She'd had more broken ribs in her lifetime than she'd had broken _nails_, and _now_ the seat belt started to bother her? Something was definitely going on.

A particularly hard pang racked her abdomen, and she hissed, tightly grabbing onto the side of the seat.

"Oh come, on. My driving isn't that bad."

"Depends on who you ask."

She smiled, glad that he'd mistaken her expression for terror over his driving. It was a look that he _should_ be slightly familiar with.

"You've got to be kidding me," Stabler groaned, pulling his car off onto the side of the road. Olivia looked up and noticed that they were blocked in by the several patrol cars and the medical examiner's van. There was a hoard of officers surrounding the empty lot and a few crime scene techs scrambling to save what evidence they could. They hadn't been expecting to be outdoors.

"Have an umbrella?"

The detectives got out of the car and ducked under the spare umbrella that Stabler kept in the glove compartment, dashing for the crime scene in the hopes that they could avoid the worst of the rain. It was no use. By the time they reached Warner's crouched form, they were both sopping wet and ready to head to the precinct.

"What do we have?" Stabler called over the wind.

"Caucasian female, early thirties," Melinda explained, securing a tarp over the body. "Looks like blunt force trauma."

"Time of death?"

"Hard to tell without getting a better look," she admitted, gesturing towards the tarp, "But I'm thinking a couple of hours. Three tops."

Olivia nodded and backed away, heading towards a group of technicians that were huddled over a piece of fabric that had been found near the victim. The shred looked as if it had been torn off of a poor quality T-Shirt, and had it not been wet, it would have been a good bet to say it was dirty. It was promptly shoved in an evidence bag and set in the minimal pile of evidence that had been collected to bring back to the lab. Chances were, it wouldn't lead anywhere, but they would take whatever they could get.

Her shoes sank into the ground, umbrella left with her partner, as she scanned the perimeter of the lot, looking for anything out of place. Just as she was about to find the first officer on the scene, she was hit with another sudden pain that would have dropped her to her knees if she hadn't been seized by the back of her jacket and led to sit on hood of the nearest squad car.

"I'm fine," she assured her partner, breathing deeply to make up for the few seconds of pain that had knocked the wind out of her.

"The hell you are," he snapped, not releasing his hold on her jacket. "Come on, there's not much more that we can do in the rain."

She held her tongue, attempting to keep from starting an argument when he was already in such a bad mood. But even still, if he continued to make demands and drag her around by her coat, there was going to be trouble. Both car doors slammed shut, the frustrated, wet detectives seeing no reason not to take their wrath on Stabler's car. Olivia jammed the closed umbrella into the back seat and turned to face the window, watching as Warner instructed her assistant to pull the van closer to the body.

"What's going on, Liv?"

"Nothing."

"That may have worked before I saw you fall for the _second_ time today."

Alright. He had her there. Her fingers tangled in her hair as she heaved a sigh and considered her answer, weighing the pros and cons of telling Elliot the truth.

"I don't know," she told him, honestly. He must have believed her because his eyes didn't roll as she'd been expecting.

"You sick?"

"Maybe. I meant it, El. I really don't know."

The man didn't say anything, driving silently, leaving Olivia to her own thoughts. Usually, her mind would have strayed to their new case, but there was very little evidence to regard. They didn't even know the victim's name. The resulting drive to the precinct was uncomfortable.

"Maybe you should crash in the crib for a bit," he said finally, speaking carefully as though he thought she was liable to hit him. Which she very well may have if he hadn't been driving the car.

"El. Come on-"

"I'm serious. Just an hour. It might do you good. And by then we may have an ID on the vic."

Her skepticism had to be showing on her face, but Elliot didn't say another word in his own defense. If she were the type of person to do so, Olivia may have huffed. As much as she hated to admit it, the day was wearing on her, and a few extra minutes of sleep probably _would_ make her feel better. She really did hate when he was right.

"One hour," she relented, "But if you let me sleep for one minute more than that, we'll be investigating _your_ murder."

"Figured as much."


	3. Chapter 3

Her eyes were moving back and forth under her lids, unable to settle down and let her get some rest. Her side was aching, but she was far more used to it now. Unless it throbbed suddenly, which it did often, she could pretend that there was nothing wrong for a little while. Olivia groaned and rolled to her side, frustrated by her own lack of sleep. The blanket that Elliot had insisted she use was bundled at her feet, kicked off minutes ago. She was beginning to feel overheated and wanted to turn the ceiling fan on. Unfortunately, moving was right up there with sleeping when it came to things that her side would not allow her to do. While her eyes remained closed for her obligatory hour, her mind continued to wander and her body was far from rested.

Sharp footsteps came from the doorway, but she didn't look up, instead choosing to play possum for a few more minutes, on the off chance that it wasn't Elliot that had ventured into the room. Olivia felt the mattress sag next to her and almost sighed. A cool hand rested on her forehead causing her eyes to blink open, before fixing on her partner, who was seated at the edge of the bed.

"Your hour was up three minutes ago."

Elliot shrugged, sliding to the side to make room for Benson to sit up next to him. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, shaking the cramps out of her body, "Maybe checking up on me? Like you've been doing every ten minutes for the last hour?"

Years of being a parent seemed to convince Elliot that terrible things would happen to a sick person that was left alone for any amount on time, which was probably why he couldn't keep away and focus on his own job. And Olivia would have reamed him out for it if she hadn't been so damn sore.

"No sleep, then?"

"Some," she said cautiously, taking care not to let on that the pain hadn't allowed her to get a minute of rest. Chances were good that he would no be pleased to hear that, and the last thing she wanted was an argument when it came to her going back to work. "Do we have an ID?"

"No driver's license," Stabler admitted, eyeing her guardedly for signs that she wasn't as alright as she was letting on. "Either the perp took it, or she never had one."

Before he could even try to stop her, which he probably wouldn't have done anyway because he'd tested his luck far more than Olivia would normally stand for, she was on her feet and headed towards the door of the crib, leaning heavily against the wall.

It was getting more and more difficult to get through the day without crawling back into bed to wait out whatever it was that was causing her so much pain, however the best thing that she could do was to solve the case quickly so that she could go back to her apartment and maybe make an appointment with her doctor. It had been a few years since she'd been there, but she was almost positive that she still had his card somewhere…

Her side pounded, ripping her out if her thoughts and pinching the air from her lungs, almost doubling her over. Elliot was immediately at her side, his arm around her shoulders, his panicked voice asking if he needed to call a bus.

"Elliot," she panted, trying to get the situation back under her careful control, "You're overreacting."

Twisting herself away from his grasp, she backed away slightly, using every amount of determination that she possessed to keep from grabbing at her side. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He was still staring at her skeptically, but she moved past him, once again headed out of the room and back to her desk. When he didn't move to follow, she spun to face him, wearing what she hoped was a playful smirk.

"Do I look like Maureen? I'm not one of your daughters, El," she said, before thoughtfully adding, "Or Dickie."

"No definitely not Dickie," he answered slowly, something in the back of his mind nudging at him. "Dickie has enough sense to go to the hospital when he's sick."

The two detectives were heading steadily back to the squad room, to Olivia's relief. The last thing she wanted to do was stay stuck in the cribs repeating her argument with Elliot until one of the partners finally got frustrated enough to shoot the other.

"Don't give me that," she complained good-naturedly, "He's your son, which means he's probably just as stubborn as you are. When's the last time he was at the hospital?"

"He was still just a kid. Appendicitis. One of the worst weeks of my life," he answered, blowing out a long breath. "Poor kid was up with a stomachache all night before Kathy got him to the doctor."

The younger woman nodded slightly, only half listening. Her desk was in sight now, which gave her a bigger sense of accomplishment than any goal she'd set in the past week. Stabler, however, was stuck on one of his own words, frowning distractedly before reaching out to catch her by the arm.

"Liv, which side hurts?"

"Right," Olivia said slowly, lowering herself into her desk chair and ignoring her partner's attempts to keep her standing. Why he would choose now, when her side was pulsating so hard that she was sure she was about to split in two, to be difficult?

But the man was persistent, tugging her out of her chair and shoving her jacket into her hands. "We're going to the hospital."

The room spun, her side throbbed, and as Olivia Benson lost consciousness, the light rain outside began to pour.


End file.
